IT WASN’T until I was back inside the bar that it hit me what I had essentially just agreed to: I was to seduce Darren Mayne to save a gay bar from evil Republicans.
In retrospect, it sounded like I was the spunky and quirky heroine of a Harlequin romance set in Montana or Wyoming (of which I knew plenty, seeing as how from the age of thirteen to seventeen, I read nothing but, sighing over when women with names like Charity or Serenity landed rough and tumble cowboys named Buck or Mick and found Twu Wuv all the while solving the Big Mystery and saving the day. And also getting plowed like a field in their mound of womanhood. I was nothing if not a voracious reader). Given that this was real life and I was not, in fact, a spunky and quirky heroine in Montana or Wyoming, I figured that this would probably just end in tears or murder, both of which would probably be my own.
So, there I was, wondering just how I was going to pull this off, not paying attention in the slightest to where I was going when I entered the bar again, only to crash into the one person that I was resolutely going to avoid until I could form a plan of attack.
“Ow,” I said.
“Sandy,” he said.
“Meep.” Somehow, I was standing in a darkened hallway of a gay bar with Darren Mayne’s arms wrapped around me loosely, my nose near his neck, his lips at my ear. I felt every single breath he took. The exhalations were hot against my skin.
“I was looking for you,” he said quietly, and didn’t that cause a little buzz to roll through me for no fucking reason at all.
“Oh?” I managed to say. “Lucky me.” I thought about kneeing him in the balls. It seemed like it might have been the best course of action.
“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you.” He pulled back just a bit, until we were face to face, his hands on my arms, fingers gripping lightly. He had rather pretty eyes, if one cared about such things, but since I didn’t, I ignored them and prepared to kick him in the nuts because he was way too close and smelled really good and—
“About?” I asked, curbing that line of thought quickly.
He said, “About the wedding. I have some ideas for Paul and Vince.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that I was sure his ideas wouldn’t be necessary, given that we weren’t going to order kegs and have a rager like homo jocks were wont to do. And to tell him to get his hands off me, because who did he think he was, manhandling me like he had any right to. I was a queen, for fuck’s sake, and I didn’t want someone of his ilk putting his hands on me.
But, of course, I was apparently a spunky and quirky heroine in a Harlequin romance set in Montana or Wyoming, because I said, “I just got hired to seduce you in order to save Jack It from going out of business. So I’ll need to suck on your cock a little while you figure out how to get your estranged and completely bigoted father to change his mind. Be a dear, would you, and go along with this? It would make my life easier.”
Darren choked on his tongue.
“Well, shit,” I sighed, because that shouldn’t have been a thing that happened.
Goddammit.
Chapter 8: Dirty Dr. Seussing: Putting My Spunk in Your Trunk
I DIDN’T even have the wherewithal to protest when Darren’s grip tightened on my shoulder as he dragged me through the bar and toward the stairs to the Queen’s Lair. Izaac eyed me as we passed by the bar and I shrugged helplessly, almost wanting to screech at him to save me from the dastardly villain who had me in his clutches. He waggled his eyebrows at me, obviously getting the wrong idea.
But since I figured it wasn’t a good idea to make things worse, I passed through the bar without much protest. Catcalls followed us as Darren threw open the doors to the stairs, pulling me up behind him. I felt myself blush, for fuck’s sake, like I was some virginish maiden being taken to her tower and where she’d be thrust upon in her wet cavern with the throbbing manhood of the knight who had rescued her. I reminded myself later to correct Izaac and the others before any rumors started to spread about Darren and me. Since it was a gay bar, though, chances were texts were already being sent down the gay phone chain and the rumors would be flying even before I stepped back down into the bar. I told myself that it was not the time to be spunky or quirky, and that I had to take this situation by the balls before it came on my face.
Darren only let me go once we’d reached the Queen’s Lair. It was empty, Charlie not expected to arrive for at least another half hour, Paul and Vince a little later. I was alone with the Homo Jock King, and he looked like he was getting ready to strangle the closest thing he could get his hands on.
Which would be me.
“Speak,” he growled, eyes flashing.
“You’ll never thrust into my wet cavern, you brute,” I said, because I had apparently lost all control on my mouth. “I don’t care if you are a knight.”
“Are you high?” he asked, looking terribly confused.
“Not since 2003,” I said. “I tried Ecstasy once. Paul found me rubb
ing my hands against a stucco wall and talking about how I wished I could get naked with it. I never did drugs again.”
His eyes bulged slightly.
“Right,” I said with a nod. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to the conversation either. My bad.”
“Sandy,” he growled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“So,” I said, “funny story. Mike may have told me that the bar is going to close due to a secret government conspiracy against gays or something disguised as a contract dispute. I’ll be honest, I’m a little fuzzy on the details because I didn’t expect to be explaining this to you. The gist of it is, I need to seduce you so you’ll go convince your dad to allow Jack It to remain open, and then I’ll be Miss Gay America and live happily ever after.”